


Art on Ice

by BloodiedBowties



Category: Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:52:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodiedBowties/pseuds/BloodiedBowties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Meeting AU. When Kurt is bullied out of his home rink, he finds a new home, new friends, and a beautiful boy who could be something more. How art and music help Kurt and Blaine expose their hurts, desires, and the love they are developing for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this came out of nowhere. I've been really missing ice-skating lately, as I used to skate when I was younger. I've been wanting to read skating Klaine for awhile now, so I wrote one. I hope you like it. It is also available to read at Scarves and Coffee and FF.net. This story is already written, and I will be posting the second part soon. Please note that, while Ohio does have skating rinks, the ones I've created in Dublin and Lima do not exist. Please consider characters and places of the Gleeverse disclaimed, as well as references that may occur in this chapter and the next. They do not belong to me.

**Part 1:**

_Blaine isn't sure what his first experience with the ice was. He knows he must've been young – three maybe – when his parents first took him and Cooper to the local rink. He remembers it like the wisp of a dream, all feeling and nothing else._

_He knows the 4" by 6" picture erected on their mantel, though, and he can see it now – Cooper, his long limbs awkward at thirteen, pointing up to the Dublin Ice Arena sign with clearly staged excitement; their mother smiling gleefully despite her hands being full with both her skate bag and baby Blaine, whom she has propped on one hip; and their father with his hockey skates draped over one shoulder, looking looser than Blaine has ever seen before. Blaine thinks that their coats make them look like colored marshmallows._

_It is the cold that Blaine actually feels he can remember, the cold and the sudden heat of his father's hands after he'd picked Blaine up after a fall. Blaine doesn't remember the fall, but he remembers his father's hands._

_Blaine remembers the time when he was nine more clearly. He'd been invited to a birthday party. The birthday boy was one of his father's co-workers' sons, and Blaine didn't care very much for the kid. Kevin – that was his name – had just joined the kids' hockey team and was more excited to show off how high he could spray the snow when he scraped his way to a stop rather than entertaining his guests. Blaine had spent the afternoon watching a girl in a pretty dress practicing her jumps in the center of the rink._

_Blaine remembers, at one point, asking the girl to show him how to do what she'd just done. She'd taken one glance down at his hockey skates and shook her head. "You can't do anything in those," she'd said. She'd skated off, dismissing him before Blaine could explain that the skates were his brother's._

_He hadn't skated since._

_Logically, he knows that he's been skating before. But this time, right now, overwhelms him with so much feeling of "first" that he feels that this is his first time. He's not sure he'd really experienced the ice until this moment, and he's not sure he's ever going to forget the sound it makes as his blades engrave the figure eight into the ice, following the trail his partner leaves for him as he skates backwards. The boy slowly pulls Blaine along the winding eight, heat coursing from where their fingers twine together._

_He loves this boy. At the center of the eight, Kurt releases his hands from Blaine's and brings them up to caress his face. They kiss at the center of infinity._

* * *

Kurt isn't sure why he's doing this to himself, driving two hours to Dublin every Saturday (and spending a decent portion of his clothing fund on gas) just to avoid the Neanderthals at the Lima Iceplex. The hockey team hadn't always been a problem for Kurt. Sure, he'd gotten the occasional slur thrown at him when he skated at public sessions, but the hockey players hadn't gotten physical until they saw what the football team could get away with.

It was like High School had given his bullies permission to become assholes rather than simply douchebags. Their favorite game was to see who could spray snow highest when stopping, using Kurt as their target. Sometimes, when he was preparing a jump, they'd speed past him so quickly that he'd lose his balance. And other times, they'd just harass him verbally.

He stopped going to public sessions, but sometimes the hockey team would practice or have a game immediately after private sessions, which were reserved for those practicing figure skating or taking lessons from a coach. Kurt was self-taught; he didn't skate to compete and he didn't have a coach. For some reason, the team assumed that this gave them the right to mock Kurt since no adult was looking out for him.

The skating rink was no longer a refuge for Kurt. The last straw was when the team Captain had cornered Kurt as he was drying off his skate blades. The Captain had taken Kurt's black skates and spray painted them pink while the rest of the team forced Kurt into the bathroom, where they stripped him of his practice clothes, which they ripped apart, and forced a glittering costume over his thin frame. He'd struggled, kicking out and screaming, but there was nothing he could do when it was about fifteen to one.

In the end, Kurt had found his phone in the tattered remains of his jacket and called his dad to pick him up with a change of clothes. He'd never felt so ashamed, or so afraid of what else they could do. When his dad arrived, calling his name softly, Kurt unlocked the stall and let his dad wrap him in his arms and pulled the ugly costume's skirt as far down his thighs as he could in order to cover as much of his legs as possible.

There, in Burt Hummel's arms, Kurt knew that his dad would raise hell against the rink staff and hockey coaches and, when nothing came of it, tell Kurt he wasn't allowed back at the local rink again. Kurt also knew that this wouldn't matter because he never wanted to come back again.

Kurt thinks that he should feel some sort of remorse for leaving Lima IcePlex behind. After all, it was the rink where his mother took him skating for the first time. It was also where he went to feel closer to her after her death.

But Lima IcePlex hadn't felt like home in a long time, Kurt realizes, as he walks into the Dublin Ice Arena. The place had nothing to do with it; it was the ice. And he knew where to find ice.

He'd picked a public session for his first time at Dublin, because it was the only Saturday information he could find on their website. He'd have to ask about public sessions at some point.

While the IcePlex had been cold no matter what part of the rink you were in, Dublin seemed to have no problem running the heat in their lobby area so that Kurt was sweating in his jacket. He finds a bench in the corner of the lobby to tie his laces, his boots carefully cleaned of all the spray paint that had marred the finished leather -he'd had to use most of Rachel's nail polish remover to get all of it off.

With the heat running, the shift from the lobby to the rink is jarring, but Kurt doesn't mind. He loves the cold. He loves dressing for it, especially because he has plenty of waterproof clothing in case he falls.

Today, Kurt is wearing black yoga pants which fall loosely over his boots. The collar of his white shirt, which he keeps tucked into his pants, peaks out from underneath an asymmetrical grey cardigan, which buttons on his right as the material falls slightly lower on his left side. He also wears black arm warmers that leave his fingers free, though only the material at his hands can be seen, since most of it is hidden beneath the sleeves of his cardigan.

The public session hasn't started yet, and Kurt joins the group waiting at the doors of the rink. There are more kids than adults waiting, and Kurt thinks that someone is probably having a birthday party since they are all talking excitedly together. He can tell that the winter season is coming by the amount of skaters here.

Two hockey players wearing bright orange vests open the doors as soon as the clock hits 12:00. Kurt quells his comment about the vests because he knows that they are standard wear for skate guards, usually teenagers employed to help keep the public session running smoothly. From Kurt's experience, they usually just fool around until someone falls.

The skate guards carry 12 cones out into the center of the ice, spacing them out in a circle. Kurt is excited by the fact that this allotted space for figure skating practice is much larger than what he'd had at the IcePlex.

He lets the birthday party get moving before he joins a teenage girl and her coach in the center of the ice. The girl is warming up, so Kurt approaches her coach.

"Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel," he says to her, holding out his hand. "This is my first time skating here."

"Carey," she returns with a smile. "Getting used to the ice before next month's competition, Kurt?"

"Oh no," he says. "I don't compete. I just needed a change of scenery, so here I am!"

"I see. Where are you from?"

"Lima."

"Ah. Well. I can see why you left." Indeed, to other rinks, Lima was known to be a bit of a dump. Kurt nods.

The girl stopped in front of the pair, breathing heavily from her cross-over exercise. "Hello!"

"Grace, this is Kurt from Lima. This is his first time here. Kurt, my student, Grace."

"Lima? You're gonna love it here."

"I'm sure," Kurt replies. "All right, well, I don't want to take up your time. I'll try to stay out of your way as much as possible."

"Thanks, Kurt," Carey says.

"Welcome to Dublin! Just wait till you hear the piano player!" Grace calls as they skate away. Kurt laughs because it feels like the proper response, but then he thinks about what she said.  _Wait …what?_

* * *

The boy Grace referred to is named Blaine Anderson, as Kurt finds out. At first he thought Blaine was just a DJ because he introduced himself as such at the beginning of the session. Despite the music, Kurt thinks it's very classy for Dublin to have a DJ. The people at the IcePlex had stuck the latest  _Now_  CD in the player and let it run on repeat for the duration of the session. Blaine, as it turns out, is a pretty good DJ. He doesn't repeat any songs, and he varies the styles, which Kurt can appreciate even if none of them are Broadway.

For the first hour and half, Kurt practices his jumps and spins. Grace and Carey are long gone from the center by the time he finishes his personal practice.

He doesn't know quite what level he would be – somewhere between Freestyle 4 and 5, he thinks. He just learned the loop jump, and he knows that that's a Freestyle 4 move, but he also can do a flip which is Freestyle 5. He's been working on both his camel spins and his sit spins, knowing he has a habit of traveling. While he knows the mechanics of the spins, he needs to be more consistent at staying stationary.

He sometimes practices his axel off ice. The one and a half revolutions scare him, and he hasn't gotten the hang of it yet. Some rinks have harnesses to help their skaters learn the bigger jumps. A coach will hold the end of the rope to keep the skater suspended in the air as they perfect the feeling of the jump and landing. The IcePlex didn't have one, but Dublin does, Kurt notes as he glances up where it hangs from the ceiling.

He'd love to have a go at it if he ever got the chance.

Mid-way through the session, the guards round everyone towards the exits so that they could clean the ice with the Zamboni. The kids gather around the sides of the rink to watch it, but Kurt goes out into the lobby to warm up.

That's when he hears it – the piano. He follows the sound to an area of the lobby he had missed originally. A table is set up, no doubt for the birthday party. A small piano is in the corner, and the boy playing it is running through scales. His hair is slicked back, and he's wearing a red cardigan on top of a black shirt. It would've been very plain if not for the white bowtie at Blaine's neck.

"Hi. I'm Blaine," he says brightly. He's drawn a bit of a crowd besides Kurt. "I'll be playing out here for the next hour and a half, while Thad here takes over DJ duties." The boy called Thad smiles and waves. "So if you need to escape all the 90's pop, I'll be right here." There are some scattered laughs at Thad's expense, which he just waves off with a grin.

"But first," Blaine continues, "I hear we have a birthday! How about we sing for Emily before we proceed? How old are you, honey?"

"Seven!" Kurt turns and, sure enough, the birthday party has filled the table behind them. Kurt joins the singing of "Happy Birthday," pretty sure that maybe five people at the most were in tune. But it's cute, and Emily bounces happily in her seat as everyone claps for her.

Underneath the applause, Kurt can hear Blaine softly playing a few chords that sound like the beginning of a song. Blaine looks back up at the crowd as the applause dies, and Kurt's pretty sure that Blaine looks directly at him. Blaine looks away quickly, though.

"Uh… So I've also heard that this is Emily's favorite song. Happy birthday. I hope you like it."

And Blaine repeats the chord progression, before leading into a soft cover of what Kurt recognizes as Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream." He'd never cared much for the song himself, preferring Gaga over Katy, but Blaine's version is something different all together. Without the pop beats, the heart of the song feels more exposed and there's a pleasant vulnerability to it that the piano highlights.

And Blaine's voice. Wow. Like… for real. Wow. Blaine's sweet croon curls around Kurt and he doesn't think he's ever felt this warm in his life.

_Don't ever look back. Don't ever look back._

Kurt knows he's staring, and he's certain "deer-in-headlights" isn't a good look for him. But he can't bring himself to care because this boy is beautiful – not just because of his voice, but because of the heart he's putting into the performance.

Blaine let's his fingers hover over the keys as the last chord resonates in the silence. Blaine looks up again, and this time Kurt is certain that Blaine meets his gaze, and Kurt sees his cheeks flush. But a flash of blonde hair zooms in front of them as Emily rushes towards Blaine. He lifts his arms in the last moment, as she collides against him with an enthusiastic hug.

"That was pretty, Mr. Blaine! Thank you thank you thank you."

Blaine laughs. "You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it."

Kurt sees the crowd thinning out around him and knows that the ice is open for the second half of the skate time he'd paid for. Instead, he decides to listen to Blaine a little longer. Kurt finds a bench and settles in.

* * *

Blaine isn't sure how he managed to score a coffee date with the gorgeous figure skater, but he knows that it definitely happened because Kurt Hummel's number is in his pocket.

He'd noticed Kurt talking to Grace, aware that he'd never seen him here before. The boy was dressed nicely, a little too nicely for skating, but he somehow made it work.

Blaine had a mental list of standards he wanted to play during the session, making sure not to play any songs he would cover on the piano later, but when he saw the boy he would learn was Kurt lip syncing to "Just Dance," he made sure to play more Gaga. And maybe he'd perform his piano cover of "Paparazzi" later. But only if the boy was watching.

It turns out Kurt loved his "Paparazzi." Blaine, feeling bold, had even winked at him. If that wasn't flirting, he didn't know what was. Blaine knows he would've been beating himself up later for his stupidity, but seeing as how it kind of worked, Blaine is proud of himself for taking a chance.

Kurt had stayed through his entire set, missing the second half of the skate session. After the show, Kurt had approached Blaine to introduce himself with a type of confidence that Blaine admired.

They talked about all sorts of things – how Kurt had driven almost two hours to get here and how Blaine lived 15 minutes away, how Kurt loves fashion and performing, how they are both 16 even though Blaine is a year behind in school. And when Kurt noticed that it was nearing 4:00 and had to rush home in order to make it home for dinner, he left Blaine with his number and the promise of coffee so they could continue their conversation.

He barely knows Kurt Hummel, but Blaine knows he wants to. He fascinates him.

Blaine pulls the number out of his pocket and looks at the clock. It is nearing 6:00 and Blaine knows that Kurt should be home by now.

He adds Kurt as a contact and types:  _Did you make it home_  ?–  _Blaine_

It takes Kurt no time at all to respond.

**Yes. No traffic. About to sit down for dinner though.**

_Oh okay. I'll leave you be. Wednesday coffee in Lima?_

**Yes! There's this place called the Lima Bean. You'll love it. 4?**

_Sure. Good night Kurt._

**Good night Blaine.**

* * *

Kurt was so little when he started skating that he wore double blades that fastened over his tiny shoes – Velcro ties because shoe laces were such a hassle. He grew up in an ice-skating home, his father being an ex- hockey player – recreational mostly – and his mom being a retired figure skating competitor who'd turned to coaching part time.

Kurt remembers the first time his mother took him skating. He barely remembers her anymore, her face preserved only by photographs, but he remembers the feeling of her soft hands holding onto his tiny ones, supporting his weight as he adjusted to the feeling of floating.

His mom had been a beautiful skater. His dad has an 8" by 10" hanging on the wall that looks like a work of art rather than a picture.

Elizabeth Hummel, frozen in time, has her left extended behind her so that her toe pick digs into the ice. Her right blade is on a deep edge in front of her, so that the boot angles away from camera. Kurt knows that, at the time the picture was taken, his mom was spinning her body so that her right boot circled around the center where her left toe pick met the ice.

She reaches up to touch her right cheek gently with her left hand, while she extends her right arm out, her fingers flared. She has her eyes closed, head titled back, so that her long curls, the same color as Kurt's hair, fall down perpendicular to the ice. She is wearing a navy skating dress that clings to her skin as she arches her back with the pose.

She looks…passionate.

If Kurt had to describe his mom in one word, it would be that one.  _Passionate._ He was eight when she was killed in a car crash, but Kurt remembers the way she would bounce from room to room, singing songs to Kurt and rambling on about things he didn't understand. Kurt remembers his mother being what his Dad calls 'a spitfire.' It's a phrase he sometimes uses to describe Kurt too.

But Kurt wishes he had his mom's passion for everything – music and skating and art and people and life. It's those last two that seem to be failing Kurt lately.

But maybe Blaine can change things.

* * *

Kurt tells Blaine about his mom on their Wednesday coffee date. In turn, Blaine tells him about how much he misses his brother. The topics are sensitive for both of them, though, so they talk about other things.

Blaine tells the story of how he became the resident pianist for the Dublin Ice Arena, explaining how he was incredibly (platonically!) close with his classmate, Thad, and how he pitched the idea to Thad's parents who own the rink and how they'd had to bring the piano in through the Zamboni exit in order to fit it.

Kurt nods because he'd been wondering about that. It wasn't very common to see a pianist at a skating rink.

Blaine talks about how wonderful Dalton is, and Kurt stays silent about McKinley.

Blaine learns that Kurt's favorite musical is Wicked, and Kurt learns that Blaine wants to play Roger in RENT one day. Kurt thinks he'd be a better Collins and tells him so. They find out that they share an interest in Vogue, though their styles of fashion are so different from each other. They decide that P!nk is the perfect middle-ground for Blaine's love of Katy Perry and Kurt's love of Lady Gaga.

Blaine is surprised to learn that Kurt is afraid of vampires, but loves the Twilight movies because of Jacob. When Kurt appears to be slightly insulted when Blaine laughs, Blaine admits to having read each of the books cover to cover.

Blaine feels like he's never going to learn everything there is to know about Kurt Hummel. They plan to meet up again next week. But first, Kurt is planning on going back to Dublin for the Saturday afternoon public session and Blaine is scheduled to play again.

They spend the two days leading up to Saturday struggling with their own pain, but sleeplessly imagining the possibilities of the new feelings that have sunk into their bones.

Kurt wonders if it is okay to miss Blaine this much when they just met. He wonders if Blaine misses him as much as he misses Blaine, while Blaine wonders if Kurt feels the same empty ache in his stomach.

**END PART 1**


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

Kurt and Blaine fall into a routine of sorts, meeting every Saturday at the rink and every Wednesday at the Lima Bean. After the first few weeks, they begin to add other outings. One weekend, Blaine gets them tickets for RENT. Another weekend, Kurt picks Blaine up at Dalton and they go to Columbus for a Kurt-style shopping spree, which turns out to be an adventure Blaine could never have predicted or prepared himself for.

A few weeks after their first meeting, Blaine lets Kurt know that Thad's parents have agreed to let them and Thad have the ice for an hour after the scheduled public session.

It is the first time Blaine truly gets to watch Kurt skate and all he can feel is excitement. After the public session, he walks around the rink to the hockey players' bench on the other side of the ice. He can hear and see everything from there.

Kurt warms up with a cross-over sequence that spans the entire length of the ice. He moves fast and graceful, extended from head to toe. Thad, wearing his figure skates rather than his hockey skates, follows behind. He's powerful, but less graceful. His movements are sharp. They do the warm-up twice before stopping on the side of the ice Blaine is closest to.

"So Blaine tells me you've been wanting to have a go at your axel," Thad says, impressed because he likes to keep his feet on the ground. He'd tried a waltz jump in his figure skates only once before deciding that hockey was his sport.

"Oh! But it's not nearly ready for the ice yet," Kurt says, his voice rising in his nervousness and the pressure of expectation.

"Well, there's always the harness." And Thad says this with such a twinkle in his eye that Kurt knows this must've been the point of this all along. It explains why Thad is here with them and wearing his figure skates for once. Kurt skates over to Blaine who is beaming at him.

Blaine stands to meet him.

"Thank you," Kurt says. Hesitantly, Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's neck in a distanced hug. They can't get closer because the rink wall is between them.

"I wanted to do this for you," Blaine says, returning the embrace. On one of their coffee dates, Blaine had asked Kurt how he was liking Dublin, and Kurt had mentioned the harness with such admiration and longing. Blaine couldn't get the way Kurt's eyes had faded into green out of his mind, and he knew that it was something he could make happen.

"It was very thoughtful."

Kurt giggles when, after Thad secure him in the harness, he pulls on rope to lift Kurt before he had prepared himself to try jumping. Kurt fools around with his seeming weightlessness, skating a few strokes before jumping up – he can feel Thad's tug on the rope to keep him suspended in the air – and contorting his body into a martial arts kick with a guttural "Haa" as he crosses the width of the rink.

It's so ridiculous, but so worth it just to see Blaine holding his ribs with his laughter.

For the next hour, Kurt feels Blaine watching him fly.

* * *

Kurt wasn't supposed to find the scar. No one was.

They are in Kurt's bedroom when it happens. Blaine had agreed to let Kurt give him a make-over when they have their first sleep-over, thinking it couldn't hurt to learn proper skin care. What he hadn't realized was that Kurt also intended to show Blaine just how little gel he needed to get his curls under control.

Blaine showers in the evenings, so when they arrive at Kurt's house later Saturday and Kurt immediately ushers him into his private shower, Blaine thinks it has something to do with having to be clean before using products on his skin.

He forgets that you can wash your face without actually showering, but Blaine sometimes does silly things like that. He's too caught up in the fact that he's using  _Kurt's_  soap to pay attention to actual thought processes.

Kurt has left him a fluffy white towel, and that too smells like Kurt, from whatever he uses for his laundry detergent.  _Thank God Kurt can't see me sniffing his towels like a creeper_ , Blaine thinks.

He changes into pajamas, his silk ones because he wants to look nice for Kurt even though they are just going to make him over and watch  _The Sound of Music._

When Blaine enter Kurt's room again, it is clear that Kurt had been waiting patiently for him. He is sitting on his bed with his legs crossed, his computer resting in his lap. Kurt looks up when he hears the door and places his laptop the side. He approaches Blaine and twirls one of his wet curls with his finger. The action feels so intimate that Blaine can feel himself flushing where Kurt's finger had grazed his cheek.

"Right. We need to let this dry a little." As Kurt speaks, he runs his hand through Blaine's hair, letting the strands slide between his fingers. "And then we can-"

Kurt stops abruptly, his fingertips ghosting along the raised skin above Blaine's left ear. Blaine tenses at the sensation and freezes. After a few moments, he shuts his eyes at the pressure building behind them.

"Blaine…I…uh." Kurt feels the words tumble out of his mouth, but he's not sure what they are because he doesn't know what he was trying to say. What can he say?

"You made me forget," Blaine finally says as he drops into the chair at Kurt's vanity. "And now you know."

Blaine hangs his head, and he looks so weary from speaking that Kurt kneels in front of Blaine, places his hands on his knees, and tells him to look into his eyes.

"Listen to me, Blaine. I only know what you want me to know." And it's true because all Kurt knows is that Blaine has a scar above his ear, one that hurts him to remember.

Now that he knows it's there, Kurt can clearly see the raised skin even though Blaine's hair has grown out around it. Suddenly, Kurt understands why Blaine plasters his hair to his head. He isn't doing a poor job giving his hair structure, he's making the choice to keep it down. He doesn't want volume, he wants coverage. So he can hide the scar.

Kurt's plans for the evening dramatically shift.

"But I'm here when you're ready," Kurt finishes heavily. "And it's not going to change this." He glances down to where their hands have found each other.

They're not sure yet what  _this_ is, but it feels good to have out in the open.

* * *

 _Not even the over-exaggerated Valentine's Day decorations are enough to ruin Blaine's mood because_ he  _has a date for the Sadie Hawkins Dance next Friday! He wasn't quite sure how Sadie Hawkins was supposed to work for same sex couples – and the whole thing seemed to encourage gender role stereotypes anyway, in Blaine's opinion. Because seriously? True equality should be seamless, while this is just saying:_  Yeah sure, you can ask a guy out, ladies. Here's your day to do it. We'll celebrate it as a move towards equality and then when the dance is done, everything can go back to normal.

_What Blaine can appreciate, though, is that the dance encourages them to lay everything on the line, shake up the path you're on just a little bit for the possibility of something beautiful happening. Something new and exciting._

_So Blaine had squared his shoulders and brought a single yellow rose to school and asked Collin to the dance. Collin was the heartthrob of Westerville High's drama program. He was the star of the music department. He was a Junior to Blaine's Sophomore, and he'd said yes._

_Blaine asked him in the emptiness of the music room, where their Orchestra class takes place every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Blaine is their pianist. Collin is their shining first violin._

_The week before the dance progresses slowly. Blaine almost wishes he had a paper or exam to keep his mind occupied, but it seems his teachers have decided to let them off easy. Instead, Blaine can't stop thinking of the dance, also known as his date with Collin. Traditionally, Sadie Hawkins Dances are supposed to be casual, but Blaine obsesses over what shirt he's going to wear and what bow tie will add the proper accent he needs for his outfit._

_The day of the dance he wonders if Collin put as much thought into what he was wearing. He arrives at the Anderson household dressed in nice khakis and a blue and green striped shirt. The hint of eyeliner brings out his blue eyes, and Blaine knows that_ that _is definitely something new._

_They look good together and Collin is the perfect gentleman the entire night._

_Blaine won't remember it though._

_What he will remember is the scent of blood, the throbbing of his fingers, the sharp pain he felt every time he breathed. He'll remember Collin calling for help, and he'll remember thinking that he was going to die there as a bunch of jocks descended on him. He will remember knowing true fear._

_And he'll then know nothing for a while._

* * *

"They swung a baseball bat at my head," he tells Kurt one afternoon. The Lima Bean is crowded on their usual Wednesday coffee…thing. Not-date. Because they aren't dating.

But Kurt and Blaine are sitting in a corner of the café that feels private, as it would need to be for the conversation they are having.

"I was in a coma for three months and had emergency surgery twice. I woke up not knowing what happened or where I was. I didn't know my name. I wanted to ask but I didn't remember how to speak and no one was there to hear me. And I couldn't move because my body felt like lead.

"Everything was white until a doctor came in. He was wearing a blue face mask. He was trying to ask me questions, but I couldn't hear him. I was so tired of trying to make sense of things that I fell back to sleep. When I woke again, I could hear and they told me everything."

Kurt wants Blaine to stop. The explanation is so mechanical, and his eyes have never looked so glazed or haunted. Blaine's entire body is shaking so hard. Too hard. The table is rattling from the tremors in his arms and legs. But Blaine is still speaking, apparently powering through because he only wants to have to do it once, so Kurt listens.

Blaine tells him how one of the jocks stepped on his hand and broke three of his fingers. He mentions the three broken ribs the doctors told him he had. He explains that his bones had healed before his brain had, and says that it was weird to not remember the healing process at all. They were broken, and then they weren't.

Blaine tells him the story of the first time he played the piano after the attack - how his fingers wouldn't cooperate with him at the time and he didn't know why until he remembered the sound of them crunching under tennis shoes. He laments the fact that his playing will never be the same, and at that Kurt wants to know what the hell he is talking about. Umm…hello…"Teenage Dream." But he holds his tongue as Blaine continues speaking.

Kurt hears about Blaine's therapy – the physical kind, which just ended, and the one he sees his counselor for every other Tuesday. Blaine tells him that he transferred to Dalton just this year and that the rigorous curriculum there, along with his absence from the spring semester at Westerville High, is the reason for his current sophomore status. He explains that he has no idea what happened to Collin, but that he knows he lived.

"Blaine, I-" The clouds in Blaine's eyes quickly dissipate, as if he'd forgotten that he was speaking to Kurt at all and just hearing his voice was enough to jolt him back into the Lima Bean.

He thinks he's such an idiot. Now Kurt knows how broken he is, and what kind of person wants to -

"Would you look at me, honey?"

Exhausted and resigned, Blaine lifts his gaze from the coffee table.  _Oh. Oh!_ Kurt is  _crying_.

"I am so glad you're here," Kurt says, because thinking about Blaine lying unconscious in a hospital bed, small and alone with wires going every which way is the worst thing in the world. He doesn't want to think about what could've been, a life where he and Blaine never met because Blaine either died or never came out of his coma, but he can't help that his brain goes hyperactive.

They throw out their coffee cups, and Kurt drives them to his house where they watch  _10 Things I Hate About You_. Blaine is still too shaken to be all right, but Kurt holds him in his arms and kisses his temple, at the base of his scar, and that can't be nothing. Blaine occasionally buries his face in Kurt's shirt, where he feels safe, to make the memories stop.

Blaine doesn't know why this beautiful person came into his life, but here, for the first time, Blaine thinks,  _I'm glad I'm here too._

* * *

The next Saturday, Thad's parents have once again given them some ice time after the public session, only half an hour this time because there's going to be a hockey game.

Blaine had asked Thad prior if he and Kurt could be alone for part of the time, and Thad assured him that it would be fine. He needs to prepare for the game anyway.

"Have you ever been on the ice all by yourself, Kurt? With no one to watch out for?" It's something Blaine imagines all the time. In his dreams, Kurt is in the spotlight, graceful and lovely, as he skates the performance of a lifetime. Blaine's heart stops beating each time Kurt jumps, but his spins are flawless so he doesn't worry. He lands his axel in the finale of the performance. Flowers are thrown all around him as he finishes, breathing heavily. He waves to an audience of blank faces, and skates over to Blaine, leaning in…

At that point, Blaine usually wakes up. He's curious. He wants to see Kurt skate. Really skate. So he asks.

Blaine sits in the stands this time. While Kurt digs through his skate bag in the lobby for a cassette tape that he just happens to carry around with him, Blaine thinks about the way Kurt had bitten his lip before answering him. Not because it had drawn attention to Kurt's lips. Certainly not.

Kurt had hesitated, and, for some reason, that scares Blaine.

It's some time before Kurt returns. He is wearing a black top where before there had been a red one and explains that he always keeps a change of clothes in the back of his car. Blaine doesn't think he's ever seen Kurt wear a monochrome outfit before.

He hands the cassette tape to Blaine, and for a moment Blaine gets lost in the blue of his eyes. Up close, Blaine can see the sparkle of glitter Kurt has added to his cheekbones.

"It's the best I could do on short notice," Kurt says, flushing.

"You look beautiful, Kurt." Blaine grips his thighs tightly to keep himself from tracing the constellations on Kurt's cheek.

"O –okay, so this something I put together for my mom. I choreographed it here and there as I grew older. It's been up here," he points to his head "most of my life. And seeing as how I don't compete, there's never been a reason to – to  _do_ it. So, this will be a first."

"In that case, I'm honored you're sharing it with me."

"It might not be that good, you know."

"Just get out there, Kurt."

"Yeah. Okay."

Blaine goes into the sound booth with the tape, gets it ready, and runs back to his spot in the stands just as "Blackbird" begins to play.

Kurt begins standing with his arms draped around his torso at the edge of the rink. He uncurls himself, skating backwards as he circles away from his start, his arms extending out. He steps forward only when the lyrics begin and he lifts his left leg behind him in an arabesque that should be too high for him to reach. He then changes edges mid-spiral.

Blaine has seen a lot of skating in his life, more since he began working here. He knows that competitive skaters have to include required moves in their programs. He also knows that their coaches are usually the ones choreographing.

Everything about this feels different. He's not the fastest skater in the world, but Kurt's choreography is not like that of any of the coaches that teach at Dublin, like the point is the fluidity of the movements, rather than the execution of the moves.

His jumps are sparse, but placed well with the music. He is able to jump high, and his landings are clean with extension seeming so natural in his locked joints. There are only two spins in the program, a sit spin and a regular forward spin.

But while Kurt is amazing to watch technically, Blaine recognizes this performance as art with years of pain carved into it.

As a musician, Blaine appreciates the simplicity of "Blackbird" against the elegance of Kurt's skating. He interprets the music with his arm movements, never being so obvious as to flap his arms like wings. Instead, he reaches up towards something unreachable and tries to grasp at something left behind. His arms always feel in conflict with whichever way his body moves.

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

Watching Kurt like this, so exposed in a way Blaine never thought possible, feels a lot like watching Kurt pull his heart out of his chest to present it to him on a silver platter as his last act before collapsing to the dirt. And that's the way the program seems to end as the notes fade away. Kurt presses a fist against his heart and falls to the ice, curling into the fetal position. His black clothes starkly contrasting to the white that surrounds him.

Blaine sees the shake of Kurt's shoulders before he hears his cries. "Blaine," he hears in between sobs. "Blaine, please."

Blaine wants to go running to him, but the ice is slick, too slick for him. "Kurt! You need to come out here," Blaine says from where he stands at the edge of the open rink door. "Can you do that, love? Can you come over here to me?"

Kurt gets up and skates shakily into Blaine's waiting arms, where they both fall to the dirty floor. Kurt fists at Blaine shirt. "It hurts," he whimpers into it, sobs turning to sniffles.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I never meant for this to-"

"No!" Kurt shouts. Then softer, "No. It's okay. I just miss her. It was her favorite song, you know – 'Blackbird.' She'd sing it to me every night."

Blaine nods, but doesn't speak. He can't.

"And I really need her right now," Kurt continues, falling back into hysterical sobs as he explains everything he'd been going through with the hockey team, the football team, and the Karofsky kid. It infuriates Blaine that anyone could hurt Kurt so cruelly.

When the Dublin hockey team arrives for their game, the boys pack up their stuff and sit in Blaine's car. Kurt rocks in the seat, but Blaine is there to steady him.

 _All this time_ , he thinks.  _We weren't so different at all._

* * *

"You work at a skating rink, but I've never seen you skate," Kurt says. It's Wednesday and Blaine now knows that this isn't the first outfit Kurt has worn today, the first probably sitting in a plastic bag, soaked with Slushee. He also knows about the hidden purple bruises across Kurt's shoulders and down his back.

"I can't," Blaine says, sipping at his coffee.

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"I'm not good enough."

"So…"

" _So…_  I'll fall."

"Everyone falls, Blaine."

"But I'm not allowed to. Kurt, I  _can't_  hit my head again. If I do, I could end up back in the hospital. I just can't."

"Okay. But can I ask you one more thing?" Kurt says. Blaine nods, so Blaine continues. "If you weren't scared, would you  _want_  to skate?"

"Yes," he whispers. "I'd want to do everything with you."

"Okay. Then I'll make it happen."

* * *

The ice is particularly packed that Saturday. Kurt has to wait in line to pay for the private session. He waves to Thad who's making a sale in the store, but Blaine is already in the sound booth by the time he is ready to skate.

He doesn't see Blaine until Zamboni time. Like always, Blaine is running through his scales when Kurt finds a seat. Though the novelty of listening to Blaine's music will never wear off, especially now that Kurt knows how close it was to being silenced, he chooses to return to the ice after listening for only about half-an-hour.

Kurt loves the way the ice looks and feels after the Zamboni cleans it. With every scar erased and all the snow pushed away, the ice waits to be engraved anew. While it looks scarier, shining with a layer of water on top, it's actually easier to skate on.

Kurt has plans for that afternoon. At the end of the session, Kurt doesn't remove his skates. He can feel a blister forming, but he puts on his guards to protect his skate blades and walks into the lobby just as Blaine is packing up his few sheets of music, which can easily be enclosed in a single folder because he mostly memorizes his performance pieces.

"Kurt! Hey. Come sit with me." Kurt joins him at the piano, sitting on the edge of the bench. He plays a simple chord, leading into the lower part of "Heart and Soul." As his fingers pick up the rhythm, Blaine joins in with the melody, adding his own flourishes to the tune.

"How was your turn out today?" Kurt asks, making sure to maintain the tempo.

"Pretty good actually," Blaine replies. "Severely lacking in best friends, but…"

"Keep playing," Kurt says, his fingers moving on muscle memory, as he picks up the lyrics.

 _Heart and soul, I fell in love with you,_  
Heart and soul, the way a fool would do,  
Madly...  
Because you held me tight,  
And stole a kiss in the night...

Blaine harmonizes in the second stanza _._ By the time they finish the song, they've drawn a crowd around the piano yet again. Kurt blushes at the applause. It's been a long time since so much positive attention has been on him.

The crowd disperses after Blaine announces the end of his set – for real this time.

"I didn't know you played," Blaine says.

"I'm full of hidden talents. But, yes, I took lessons until middle school."

"That was fun, though. We should do that more often." They stand up together, and Kurt is dramatically taller than Blaine since he has his skates on. "Why haven't you packed yet?" Blaine asks.

"Because we aren't done."

"What do you mean? Thad told me the ice time was booked for today."

"I know. I booked it. For us," Kurt says. Blaine's smile falters.

"But Kurt. You know what I said-"

"I know. I have everything figured out. Do you trust me?"

"Of course, Kurt. But I-"

"Come on."

Kurt leads him to the skate store. Thad is there, and when Kurt nods at him, he goes into the back to bring out a large, square box for Blaine. Blaine shakes the box, but it doesn't make noise enough for him to know what's inside. He pulls off the top.

Inside is a dark green helmet. Black rhinestones spell out his name on the side, and Blaine recognizes this as Kurt's handiwork.

Blaine laughs as he pulls it out of the box. Kurt winks at him. The answer seems so simple now. He's glad, though, that Kurt waited to do this until after the session. Blaine tries so hard not to let people see the pain behind his eyes. He would've been embarrassed to no end.

But right now, nothing sounds better right now than getting on the ice with Kurt.

Kurt places the helmet on his head and secures the clasp underneath his chin. He was right about the color; it really does bring out the specks of green in Blaine's eyes. As awkward as helmets look, Blaine is stunning. "There you are. Let's go get you some skates."

Thad follows them behind the counter, grabbing a pair of black figure skates in Blaine's size. "I'll be back in the store if you need me, guys. You have an hour until the hockey practice starts so use the time wisely."

"Thanks, Thad," Kurt replies. Thad places a hand on Blaine's shoulder as he heads back the way he came.

They pick a bench in the empty lobby where Kurt helps Blaine tie the skates, making sure they are tight enough around Blaine's ankles. Standing in skates is awkward for Blaine, and he shuffles his way to the rink, holding tightly onto Kurt's hand.

"I'm still scared," he admits.

"That's okay. We can use the wall until you feel more comfortable. And I'll be right here the entire time." Just in case, Kurt teaches Blaine how to fall safely if he can help it, landing on the outer sides of his legs.

"Yeah. Okay. I'm ready. And, Kurt,  _thank you."_

"Come on, Yagudin. Let's go show them how it's done."

And although it takes Blaine most of the hour to feel comfortable enough to leave the wall, making the figure eight the most complex pattern they accomplish that afternoon, everything feels heightened on the ice alone with Kurt. And when Kurt leans in to press his lips to Blaine's, it feels like a promise of forever.

**END**

* * *

**End Notes:** Thank you, everyone who has been reading and commenting. The favorites (kudos here) and alerts mean a lot to me. I wanted to post a few of the extras I put together while writing this story. First, the title comes from the Edvin Marton composition "Art on Ice," which I've included in a story playlist located at my youtube channel, [here](http://www.youtube/playlist?list=PLDE1DCD77E7254793&feature=mh_lolz). It's a beautiful song and fits the tone of this piece perfectly. The other songs are either featured in the story or helped me create a tone in other sections.

The picture of Elizabeth Hummel from Part 1 was modeled from [this](http://www.soundarts.biz/Michelle_Kwan_still_photo.jpg) picture of Michelle Kwan.

If you have any questions about the story or ice-skating or whatever, you can ask me over at my tumblr - [musictakeme.](http://musictakeme.tumblr.com/)

Thank you so much for everything.


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